Dire Straits

by Helen Harper

  ‘You came to me,’ I remind him. ‘You begged me to help you.’

  His dark eyes flash. ‘Only because you had nothing left to lose. You were convenient.’

  I feel a tug of something inexplicable as I glare into his eyes. For once I’m glad that I’m not taller because the tie that was created between us because of the way he turned me is affecting my baser instincts. I can smell his deep musky aftershave and my stomach flutters. I glare harder to dampen my traitorous emotions. It doesn’t work. He, however, seems to sense my capitulation because he relaxes slightly.

  ‘You had bloodfever. You were screaming for hours on end and we were about to force feed you. How did you recover, Bo?’

  Because my sneaky grandfather blackmailed someone into giving me a secret powder that helped stop the urges. I can hardly tell him that; I have a feeling he won’t take too kindly to Arbuthnot Blackman knowing how to curtail bloodlust when the Families don’t.

  ‘Just lucky, I guess,’ I say softly.

  He rolls his eyes disbelievingly. ‘Luck appears to be a bankable commodity when you’re around.’

  ‘If it helps, I don’t feel particularly fortunate right now.’

  His fists uncurl and for a brief moment he appears almost vulnerable. ‘I’m sorry.’ He says it quietly.

  ‘Excuse me?’ My voice is much louder in return. ‘I didn’t quite catch that.’

  The vulnerability vanishes. ‘You heard me the first time.’

  I stick a finger in my ear and wiggle it around. ‘No, no, I’m not sure I did.’

  He sighs. ‘Fine.’ He steps up to my ear and bends his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into it. ‘I should not have jumped to conclusions about you.’

  ‘I’m sure you can do better than that,’ I murmur.

  ‘Don’t push your luck.’ It’s a low growl. The fluttering in my stomach intensifies and I finally move away.

  ‘Okay,’ I shrug, aiming for insouciance. I’ll fake it until it’s true. ‘Tell me what else I’ve missed.’

  If he’s surprised by my sudden volte-face, he doesn’t show it. Instead he gets down to business. ‘Arzo told you about the Bancroft vampire.’

  I nod.

  He pulls out a smartphone and flips through a few screens, then holds it up. I squint. It’s a very bloody looking vampire with short blond hair and fear in his eyes.

  ‘He doesn’t look too happy,’ I comment. ‘You do realise that if he was given O’Shea’s adapted spell, it might not be his fault?’

  ‘A traitor is a traitor.’

  I shake my head. ‘The world is not black and white, my Lord.’

  ‘Michael,’ he tells me.

  I give him a look. I’m not quite ready to go back there just yet.

  ‘Do you recognise him?’ he asks.

  ‘He’s the one from the train station.’

  ‘That’s what we thought.’ He puts the phone away.

  ‘You know, it might have been helpful if I could have spoken to him before Bancroft killed him.’

  ‘It wasn’t my decision to make.’

  I eye him. No, it wasn’t but I bet he could have encouraged the Bancroft Head to hold off if he’d really wanted to. ‘Did you talk to him?’

  ‘It was a Bancroft matter.’

  ‘So he was only dealt with in-house? Why wouldn’t you or the other Heads question him too? You’re all threatened by what’s going on here.’

  He scowls. ‘It’s not the way we do things.’

  I let it go for now. ‘Is there anything else I should know?’

  ‘We can’t find the Dire Straits attacker. No one in the Families can find evidence that anyone else is involved. But twelve more vampires from across all the Families have turned up dead.’

  ‘And little Tommy Glass,’ I point out.

  He runs a hand through his hair. ‘Unfortunately he’s not the only human. He’s just the only one we didn’t manage to get to before the press.’

  ‘How many others?’ I ask quietly and for a long moment he doesn’t answer. Then he sighs.

  ‘Too many. Things are falling apart, Bo. I don’t know how long we have left before everything collapses. Someone is behind this but we don’t know who and we don’t know what they’re waiting for.’

  I watch him carefully. Fatigue and frustration are etched into his features. I put a hand out as if to pat his shoulder, then think better of it. ‘I wasn’t getting out of here on a jolly. There was a lawyer…’

  ‘D’Argneau.’ At my look, he explains. ‘We thought it might be worthwhile to know what was so important that you had to venture away from the safety of the Family.’ His jaw tightens. ‘He told me how you met.’

  ‘Did you find anything else?’ I ask awkwardly. ‘It seemed too strange to be a coincidence that I bumped into him and he turned out to be the one who hired us to investigate O’Shea.’

  ‘I had people check it out,’ he says distantly. ‘I agree the coincidence part appears unlikely but we could find nothing to suggest otherwise.’

  I nibble a fingernail. D’Argneau has served his purpose and I’m desperate to change the subject. ‘I need to speak to the Bancroft Head.’

  He jerks in surprise. ‘Tell me what you need to know and I’ll talk to her.’

  ‘No.’ I’m adamant about this. ‘I need to see her in person and I need to do it alone. If you’re there, she’ll react differently.’

  ‘Bo,’ he begins.

  I reach out again with my hand and place it on his arm. ‘Please, my Lord. Just trust me. I have to talk to her and it’s better if I do it alone.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘My Lord.’ I try again. ‘Michael. The spell only affects male vampires. It’s better if you stay away.’

  His eyes narrow. ‘The rest of us aren’t idiots, Bo. We checked her out. It’s the first thing we did. You can’t pin the blame on her just because she’s not a man. Bancroft doesn’t want to upset the status quo any more than the rest of us.’

  No, I think. You just don’t want to believe that Bancroft would do that. Plus, she’s covered her tracks well. After all, I checked her out myself by telephoning that spa. What I didn’t consider at the time is that she very cleverly set herself up with an alibi. Until D’Argneau’s information that she was the one who’d set him onto O’Shea, that is. Add that to the fact that the blond prick who killed Charity Weathers was conveniently executed by her within a few days of his treachery being discovered – and before he could be questioned by anyone else. She was the obvious suspect from the beginning. Maybe that’s why she’s gotten away with it for so long; she was so obvious that it seemed ridiculous that it could be her. She sets up false rumours of a new Family to cover her tracks and, hey presto, everyone’s running around going crazy while she laughs from the sidelines and puts her plans of vampire domination into action. I’m not going to say anything to Montserrat until I have absolute proof but I’m fairly certain I know how to get it. I haven’t spent years being manipulated by my grandfather without learning a thing or two about the process.

  ‘Well, if you’re so sure it’s not her, then you’ve got nothing to worry about, have you? Let me do this. It’s going to be easier with your permission than without.’

  He gives a short laugh, his dimple appearing momentarily. ‘I’m clearly being punished for something I’ve done in a former life.’

  I smile sweetly. I know I’ve won.

  ‘Fine. I’ll set it up,’ he tells me.

  ‘Thank you. But I need a car to get me there so I can avoid any untoward encounters with bleeding humans or ultraviolet rays along the way. I’ll set up the meeting with her on my own. And some kind of recorder or listening device, if you have one.’

  ‘She’s a Family Head, Bo. She deserves your respect. As far as she’s concerned you’re nothing more than a human.’

  I grin. ‘Hey, as far as I’m concerned I’m nothing more than a human either.’

  I skip happily along the corridor, looking for Beth. I
feel slightly guilty about receiving more of her help, especially after being convinced she was betraying her new Family. Let’s face it, I treated her no differently to how Lord Montserrat treated me – although I wouldn’t have threatened to execute her, of course. However, I can think of no one who’ll be able to pull off my plan with more aplomb than her. The worst thing is that it’s still only Monday. Ms Bancroft won’t be back sampling the joys of Spa De Loti for another two days. Even more troublesome is that she’ll be there during the day and sunlight is definitely not my friend. Without Montserrat’s help, I’ll never get there.

  I’m at the foot of the main staircase when I spot Peter shuffling along. I bounce up to him. ‘Hey,’ I say, slapping him on the back, ‘how’s things?’

  He looks at me bleakly. ‘You were half dead this time yesterday, Bo. Why are you so chipper suddenly?’

  ‘Because I was half dead this time yesterday.’ I beam at him. ‘There’s nothing like almost dying to make you feel good.’ Not to mention solving the greatest vampire murder mystery of this century, I think breezily.

  ‘Technically, if you’d drunk a bit of blood, you wouldn’t be dead either,’ he points out. ‘Vampires aren’t any more dead than humans.’

  I pay him more attention. ‘Then why are you still blood free? It’s a damn long time to hold out.’

  ‘They’re taking bets on which one of us will last the longest,’ he says glumly.

  I frown. ‘Who?’

  ‘Everyone. They’ve never had four recruits hold out for this length of time.’ His lip curls. ‘My odds are long apparently.’

  Frankly, I’m not surprised; he’s starting to look more dead than alive. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and an odd sour smell coming off his body. My heart goes out to him. ‘You don’t care about being powerful and you don’t want to be Sanguine. Why don’t you drink? You can’t keep putting yourself through this, Peter. Believe me, I know how bad it gets.’ I’d give him some of Beth’s powdered stuff if I thought he’d want it. The trouble is, I’m not sure he knows what he wants.

  ‘I deserve to suffer.’

  My eyes widen in alarm. This kind of self-flagellation is not healthy. ‘Peter, nobody deserves to suffer.’

  ‘Yeah?’ he scoffs. ‘What about your boss? The one you were in love with? Don’t the vampires who killed him deserve to suffer?’

  I’d forgotten all about that little story I’d spun. ‘Er…’

  Nicky appears from behind me. ‘Bo! You were in love with your boss and a vampire killed him? No way! That’s so awful.’

  For once, I’m irritated by her abrupt appearance as well as the line of questioning. Before D’Argneau’s revelations, I’d have milked this conversation for all it’s worth. After all, it was my plan to gain the others’ confidence and encourage them to tell me if they’d been approached by any vampires looking to organise a mass-scale betrayal. Now I know that Bancroft is behind it all, I’m less interested in possible minions who might emerge from the woodwork. I don’t need the followers when I can nab the leader and achieve my goal.

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’ I shift uncomfortably.

  Peter moves past us. ‘Now you know how I feel,’ he mutters.

  I watch him wander off then turn back to Nicky. Not for the first time, I register distaste in her eyes when she looks at him. ‘You don’t like him, do you?’ I say. ‘He’s actually a nice guy if you give him a chance.’

  She faces me, her eyes clear and guileless. ‘It’s not his fault,’ she tells me frankly. ‘He just reminds me of … you know.’

  I suddenly feel like a shit. ‘The people who attacked your family?’ I ask gently.

  She nods, her eyes welling up. I pull her into a hug. ‘I’m so sorry, Nicky. It must be impossibly hard for you.’ I feel her body tremble while she sniffs into my shoulder. ‘Why does Peter remind you of them?’

  She sobs harder and clutches at me. I hold her and wait until her racking cries subside. I smooth her hair, telling myself that she doesn’t want my advice or guidance, she just needs a bit of comfort. I hope she gets over her feelings for Peter though, not just for his sake but for hers too. Irrational dislike is never healthy, even if it seems unavoidable.

  Eventually she pulls away. ‘Thank you, Bo. You’re so kind and helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  Warmth spreads through me and I feel oddly embarrassed. It’s part of being British, I suppose, this inability to accept a genuine compliment. I smile awkwardly at her. ‘I’m always here, Nicky. You know, if you ever want to talk about it.’

  She sniffs tearfully. ‘You’re the best.’ Then, before I can say anything else, she runs up the stairs, quickly disappearing from sight.

  ***

  Two days later, dealing with Nicky’s fragility and Peter’s increasing weakness seem easy in comparison to what Beth and I are about to attempt. It is hard enough staying awake beyond dawn; every time I stifle a yawn, Beth does the same. The rhythmic sounds of fatigue from the pair of us add to the tension in the back of one of Montserrat’s helpfully blacked-out cars.

  ‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,’ she mutters.

  I try to keep my tone light. ‘Hey, at least we’re doing this with the full consent of our Lord and Master this time.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be fair. First of all, it’s meant to be confidential information and, second, I don’t want to worry you.’

  ‘You realise that there is nothing more worrying than the phrase “I don’t want to worry you”, right?’

  ‘“I think you should sit down”?’ I suggest.

  ‘Okay, yeah, that’s never good to hear.’

  ‘“This isn’t going to hurt much”?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘“Our nuclear facility has run for a full seven days without an accident”?’

  ‘Bo?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Shut the smeg up.’

  I grin. ‘Chill out. All you need to do is keep them busy so I can get to Bancroft.’

  Beth glances out of the heavily tinted window. ‘Assuming we can actually get from here to there first.’

  ‘It’s just a bit of sunshine. And it’s less than five metres to the door from here anyway.’ I’m not sure whether I’m attempting to reassure her or myself. Thanks to my fabulously unnatural healing powers, the blisters I incurred in my mad suicide attempt to see the sun rise have already healed. I can still remember what it felt like – and smelled like – to frazzle in the sun’s rays, though. And that was at dawn. Now we’re barely an hour past midday and there’s not a single cloud in the sky. ‘Being a vampire isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,’ I comment sardonically.

  ‘It’s only for a couple of years. Then we build up immunity to the ultraviolet light.’

  ‘You could have completed the process, you know. I wouldn’t have minded if you’d drunk.’

  Beth shakes her head. ‘Nah. This’ll go easier if I’m still clean. By this evening, however…’

  I smile at her, even though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Despite my earlier misgivings about Beth, the thought of this bright, resourceful woman becoming a full vampire seems tragic. I can’t help feeling that she’s throwing away her future. Fortunately, if Beth knows what I’m thinking, she doesn’t comment and we are distracted by a cough from the driver in front.

  ‘Lord Montserrat told me to inform you that you may still change your mind,’ he says. He’s not referring to fully fledged vampirism, unfortunately.

  I look at Beth. ‘Last one out is a deep-fried semi-human.’

  She winks at me and pulls up the protective hood until her face is covered. It’s made of some kind of odd reflective material. Apparently, it’s the perfect material to be wearing should one ever find oneself in the midst of a nuclear attack. I don’t feel any better knowing that the sun now has the same effect on me that a thermo-nuclear device wou
ld have.

  I do the same, then kick open the car door and rush out while Beth follows at my heels. The heat is searing and, even though I’m covered from head to toe, it feels as if every layer of skin is being scorched from my body like a marshmallow in a campfire. Then we’re inside and moving away from the large glass windows – more out of instinct than because of any residual rays that might be seeping through.

  I yank down the hood and paste on a wide smile for the receptionist. She is staring at us with the sort of horror that she usually reserves for people who’ve left the house before blow-drying their hair. I’m glad that I’m with Beth and her bouffant hairdo.

  Beth saunters forward. ‘Angelique! Darling, how are you?’ She reaches across the desk for a double air kiss.

  Angelique, recovering her professionalism, purrs, ‘It’s so wonderful to see you again!’ She’s never seen Beth in her life before, of course.

  ‘Well, darling, you can see the trauma.’ Beth flips out a hand in my direction and I manage to look suitably contrite. ‘I mean, those curls! So last season. We simply must do something about them immediately.’

  The receptionist looks me over, nodding. ‘Yes, indeed. Do you have an appointment?’

  ‘Angelique, this is an emergency! There’s no time for appointments. We must see a specialist right away.’

  If I’d not been standing there, I’d have believed Beth was far too melodramatic to suit our purpose but it’s clear from Angelique’s expression that she agrees this is an ER situation. She frowns. ‘I can fit you in tomorrow. Around 10am?’

  ‘No,’ Beth replies firmly. ‘That will be far too late. Can’t you do a little shifting here and there and work your magic so we can see someone now?’

  Angelique shakes her head. ‘We have a special client. She’s booked out the entire facility.’

  ‘Where is this client?’ Beth asks, sounding surprised.

  ‘In the massage treatment room. She…’

  ʻWell, then! We won’t go anywhere near there. I absolutely promise.’

  ‘I’m sorry. This client is rather particular. We can’t afford to…’

  ‘Angelique. You know me. I would never upset the rhythm of your wonderful spa. We will stay far away from your client.’